


Personal Perceptions

by Think_Busby_Think



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Pupcake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Think_Busby_Think/pseuds/Think_Busby_Think
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additional scene from Episode 5.08 after Mrs Busby has handed over Delia's birth certificate</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Perceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Delia's reaction to her mother in this scene really got to me. I am sure most people just wanted her to stand up to her mam and put Patsy first, but back then it must have been incredibly difficult to speak about. It was hard enough to tell my mother about my relationship with a woman just 10 years ago - so back in the early 60s it feels unimaginably difficult.

Delia Busby sat on the top deck of the bus and stared out of the window as it took them back to Poplar. Patsy sat closely next to her, and she could feel the woman's triumphant energy radiate from her as she talked about their meeting with Mrs Busby. Usually it would be the other way round, with Delia happily chatting away and Patsy chipping in when necessary, but they had switched roles, as Delia couldn't help her own thoughts about the meeting roaring through her head, and they felt a million miles away from Patsy's.

She had frozen in front of her mother, unable to cross her - again. Fortunately, Patsy had stepped up and asked for her birth certificate as Delia had sat, paralysed by the fear that she might actually get challenged about her relationship with Patsy, and that her mother, and by extension the whole family, would disapprove and disown her. It didn't matter that she had already moved away from Wales in order to pursue a career. This was different. This was about how she lived her life; about who she shared her life with.

It was so strange that Patsy always called her the brave one. It stemmed from the fact that it had been Delia who had finally gone past simply hinting at her feelings, despite it being obvious to them both for some time. Their 'courtship' had taken months of shared evenings, innocuous discussions and hidden looks slowly becoming less discreet until Delia couldn't bear to dance round the edges any longer. Yes, it had been a huge risk; she would certainly have lost her job had she been wrong in reading the signals, but Delia knew she wasn't wrong, she knew Patsy felt that undeniable pull between them, so in the end she knew she had no choice but to act; and instead of simply kissing Patsy on the cheek as she wished her goodnight before leaving her room, she had deliberately cupped her face and kissed her on the lips. The dam burst that night and months of pent up longing transformed to hours of holding and kissing, before Delia reluctantly disentangled herself from the red-haired nurse in order to sneak back to her own room.

So Patsy labelled her bold and brave, and certainly her outward character was equally resolute and forthright, as any of the staff and patients on Male Surgical would attest to. But when it came to her family, Delia struggled. She had set her mind on going to London to study nursing, despite her mother spending hours trying to dissuade her. The argument had been logical and immutable however; London nursing schools were respected throughout the country and they offered the best and most intensive training experiences. Nurses trained in London hospitals were highly sought after, so Delia's desire to be the best possible nurse needed to start there and her cool logic and determination had finally won her mother over.

It was the accident that had damaged her mother's view irrevocably. Delia had gone from a confident, independent woman to a lost child in the time it took for her head to crash onto the road. She couldn't even write for a month, unable to concentrate long enough to string a sentence together, let alone think of anything worthy to say. During that time of convalescence, her mother and father had looked after her, and blamed London for the change in their daughter. 

Mrs Busby had made her thoughts quite clear to Delia on every subsequent trip to London for her check-ups. She had made the most of their journey times to and from Wales to drum into Delia just how she felt about almost losing her, and that she would not allow her to be away from her again. And even though Delia felt suffocated at home, and her heart ached to be with Patsy again, she had been unable to stand up to her mother. She could see how much her mother had suffered, and by extension, her father too, and she felt guilty about putting them through it all. That heavy burden of guilt meant that when her mother insisted that she return to Wales, Delia didn't have it in her to go against those wishes and to hurt her mother more. 

It had taken an intervention from sister Julienne to enable Delia to take up nursing in London again, and while Delia was extremely grateful that it had happened, and Patsy once again called her brave for agreeing with sister Julienne and standing up to her mother, Delia knew that she hadn't; not really.

 

Delia was sure that her mother had blamed Patsy too, but only by association. It became clear during their meeting today that Mrs Busby was far more attuned to her daughter's relationship with Patsy than she thought. The second she had described them as 'thick as thieves' Delia knew that her mother knew. And then she played her trump card by using her father against her. Delia had always been her father's daughter, being both the youngest and the only female offspring. She was the apple of her father's eye, and she felt the same of him. He had always quietly encouraged her to follow her dreams, even when her mother was questioning her. He never pushed her into the more conventional ways of growing up. He didn't tell her not to pursue a career. He was rather proud that at least someone from their small village in Pembrokeshire actually had the talent and desire to make more of themselves. He knew his Drapers shop was in good hands with his sons; his daughter needed to do things her own way, and he would support her in that.

So when her mother told her not to do anything that would make her father cry, it had cut Delia to the quick. She had barely said another word to her mother after that, and Patsy had been so delighted to have got what they came for, she hadn't picked up on Delia's mood.

Now she sat on the top deck of the bus, wedged between the window and Patsy, with her mind swirling about choices. Why did she have to choose between Patsy and her family? Why could she not be able to bring Patsy back to Wales and show her family how happy she was, and how complete Patsy made her? But she didn't want to let her dad down. The man who had stoically supported her through everything. She didn't want to be a disappointment to him. But she knew he wouldn't understand. It wouldn't be enough to be happy that she was happy. And what if he were to tell her she was no longer welcome at home?

"I need to get off." Delia stood up suddenly, taking Patsy completely by surprise and she pulled the line that ran along the length of the bus, triggering the bell that would indicate to the driver to stop.

"Delia?" Patsy looked at her with concern as she stood up along with Delia and headed to the stairs. She stood to one side, allowing Delia to take the lead and trotted down the blocky steps and alighted a few stops away from Nonnatus House. "Deels, what's the matter?"

Delia began walking quickly, her hands shoved deep into her pockets but was stopped by the tall midwife catching her elbow. "Delia. Talk to me," she pleaded, shocked when Delia turned to her, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry Pats. I don't deserve you. I'm not even sure what you see in me. I can't even stand up to my mam..." She broke off as she sobbed and tried to turn away, embarrassed at the obvious show of emotion.

Patsy was astonished for a second and then guided her lover to a small side road, away from the main thoroughfare. She pushed Delia back against the wall gently and then grabbed her hands in her own and squeezed them reassuringly. "Delia? What's brought this on?"

Delia refused to look at the taller woman, instead focussing on their joined hands as she tried to calm her emotions. "How can you stand it Pats? I'm supposed to love you but I can't ever seem to tell my mother that you come first. What sort of person does that make me?"

"Shhhhh, shhhh," Patsy comforted. "Deels, I don't know where this is coming from, but I know exactly why I love you, and it has nothing to do about whether you can stand up to your mother or not."

Delia risked a look up and saw Patsy looking at her with eyes full of love and concern. "I'm just a bloody country girl, Pats. I have no breeding or culture. I have nothing to offer you except an overbearing family who would only ever view you with suspicion."

Patsy knew all the signs of insecurity; she had certainly suffered from them enough herself. "Delia, first of all you will never be 'just' anything. You are smart, and funny, and quick and passionate. You make me laugh and you make me think. You might not think you have breeding or culture, but I have never found that sort of snobbery and obsession with background attractive." She took a deep breath. "I love you for all those reasons but more than that, I love you because you saw something in me that I couldn't even bring myself to admit. You chose to love me, despite the fact that it took forever for me to be able to demonstrate any hint of those feelings to you. You persevered through all my brush offs and my repressed feelings and because of that, you woke me up to my own feelings and my true personality. Delia, I love you because you unlocked my potential to love again, and to trust again." 

She looked round quickly to see if anyone was near by before raising their clasped hands to her lips and kissing Delia's hand softly. "And as for having an overbearing family? I would rather that than you have no family at all." The words were profound and Patsy heard her voice catch.

Delia looked closely into the taller woman's eyes, seeing grief in there along with love and hope. "I'm sorry Pats," she apologised. "It's all just a bit overwhelming sometimes. I just wish I could let my mother know that I'm happy."

"She knows," Patsy said confidently. At Delia's frown she continued. "If she truly thought that you were, I don't know, ensnared by me and that you didn't actually want to be with me, she would never have even brought the birth certificate, let alone hand it over. She's been protective of you her whole life, and this would have been an easy way of protecting you from my perverted influences." She waggled her eyebrows, trying to lift the mood just a bit.

Delia gave a watery smile. "I suppose. I never really thought about it that way." She rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to erase her tears even as she took a deep breath to gather herself again. "I just wish..." She began before halting.

Patsy lifted the younger woman's chin slightly. "Wish what?"

Delia looked at Patsy before grabbing her hand and returning a kiss onto her delicate fingers. "I just wish I could tell my Dad. I know that you two would get on like a house on fire."

"Maybe one day Deels," Patsy suggested. "Come on. We need to get back. There's a lot still to do for the sisters."

Delia nodded morosely. She chose to walk as closely as possible to the taller woman and was grateful when Patsy did nothing to pull away. "I love you more than everything, Pats," she whispered, a small smile on her lips.

"I'm the same," was the familiar and reassuring reply.


End file.
